Probably a wise decision on Nora's part. Not that Oni's word isn't generally good, but not for nothing is she sometimes known as the Bottomless Pit. Food has been known to vanish with astonishing quickness in her general vicinity, to the point where preemptively feeding the Ahroun (lest she help herself to whatever's in the kitchen) is considered a legit cost of doing business at the Year of the Rat.

Seriously. She's a write-off on their taxes.

"Th'fuck do either of us know about normal people," she snorts, making air-quotes with her fingers while she heads to the cabinet. Sure, Nora may not turn into ten feet, twelve hundred pounds of kiss your ass goodbye, but normal, everyday people don't take calls from the dead either.

"I don't think y'want me sayin' Grace. Th'bolt of lightning might miss me and hit you," she grins, setting the table. Is it set correctly? Fuck no, but it's done and Nora should take the win.